


There’s Magic In Your Touch (Hold On As The World Burns)

by 9r7g5h



Series: 1000 Days of Xena [32]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F, HP canon gets thrown out the window for this because I say so, Horror/Angst/Romance, Takes place during the first Wizarding Wars, rating and warnings are subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9r7g5h/pseuds/9r7g5h
Summary: She had followed Him into the dark, had allowed herself to believe His lies. But now, in the middle of the first Wizarding War, she fights, because everything He had ever told her had been wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Ok, so. Like, nine months or so ago, I promised you guys a Harry Potter AU. And it never happened. Sorry about that. Well, I have about two and a half chapters written, and while I was going to wait until it was fully done, I think we’ll risk it and just get started with the posting now. I was going to wait until next Friday, but oh the well. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Xena or Harry Potter. I’m just meshing them together into a random mix to see if something fun comes from it.

She was fourteen, halfway through her fourth year, when she finally met him.  
  
Of course, she knew him; everyone knew _of_ him- he was the most popular boy in all of Hogwarts, drawing people to him like moths to a flame with his wit and charm. He was always so nice too, taking a moment of his time to point the first years in the right direction when they were lost, offering up a hint of where to look in the book to solve the potions homework, instructions on how to better hold your wand for easier casting- there was a reason he was one of the most beloved students at Hogwarts.  
  
And he knew how to speak. Knew what to say exactly when to say it so it soothed whatever was troubling you. Knew what words would bring you up, raise you to new heights, encourage you to be your very best. Knew how to make all of your hopes and dreams actually seem like a reality.  
  
And the exact phrase to have you crashing down once more, unable to resist the depths he could send you spiraling into.

He was popular but cruel, something the students knew but the teachers seemed to always forget when he smiled.  
  
So yes, Xena knew of Tom Riddle. She had seen him in the common room, had heard the whispers and rumors that followed him about. But she had never officially met him before.  
  
Until now.  
  
It was one of her older friends who introduced them, though ‘introduce’ was perhaps the wrong word. He had, in the middle of the night, dragged her from the chair by the fireplace where she was doing her homework and practically carried her to the dungeons, ignoring her curses, both magical and verbal alike. Xena had been furious at being led like a dog on a chain against her will, though her words of protest were ignored, and eventually she fell silent when she stood before him.  
  
When he looked at her and smiled.  
  
"I think she'll work. She's one of us, Tom."  
  
It was like he had known her. When he finally spoke after those first long minutes, he addressed her by name, knew she held the top scores in almost every class, mentioned how she had been in detention a few weeks ago for trying to smuggle a book from the restricted section she hadn't been given permission for- he knew it all. As if they were old friends instead of newly met strangers. As if they had spent a lifetime growing up together instead of just passing in the halls on the way to class, or catching glimpses of each other in the Slytherin common room.

As if he had plucked the memories from her mind- which he had. She had fought against him- mentally, physically, throwing up walls when she had first felt that unnatural brush of his mind against her own, of his thoughts trying to force their way in, all while she bit at the hands that held her arms behind her back, kicked at their shins, did everything she could to try and escape. She had tried to push him out, tried to free herself so she could run, just _struggled_ \- and he had been pleased.

He told her so himself, when he finally withdrew, when she was finally released to stand unsteadily on her own; he was pleased with her struggles, even more so that she had delayed him for so long, despite his three years on her and the fact she had never been trained to resist before.  
  
He'd smiled the entire time he had pounded against her mind, forcing his way into her memories, reading them as easily as the journal he held in his hands. And he had smiled when he had pulled away, leaving her weak and shaking and staring at him up like he was a god. And he had smiled as he spoke, his newfound knowledge of her giving him the words he needed to say- the ones she needed to hear to draw her to his side.     
  
"Would you like me to train you, Xena? You're strong- with a bit of help, you could become almost as strong as me. Would you like that?"  
  
She couldn’t speak- she tried, tried to force her tongue to say something, anything, to give him the response she knew he was waiting for, but she couldn’t. The minutes passed as she tried to pull herself together, tried to find a safe point in her mind where she could take a stand, gather her thoughts and feelings and take stock of herself, but she couldn’t. Everything hurt, everything was pain and nausea and that burning touch of his thoughts, and she couldn’t. So she had just nodded, still unable to speak, the bile turning in her throat as she waited for the pain in her temples to fade.

She had heard. Everyone in Slytherin knew who he was, what kinds of things he was sure to be destined for, and even back when she was a first year, Xena had heard. She had heard how powerful he was, had heard about the friends he kept, had heard all the rumors, but she hadn't believed them. Not until then, but then the rumors didn't matter.

It didn’t matter that the pain in her skull was almost debilitating, that every inch of her felt like it had been dragged through the Forbidden Forest by a thestral, that all she wanted to do was lay down and die. It didn’t matter that she knew, just like everyone knew, that Tom was meddling with dark magic, magic no one had tried to wield in decades, perhaps centuries. Magic no one _should_ use, they were that dangerous. It didn’t matter that he was shaping up to be the strongest wizard the world had ever known, nor did it matter what he was planning on doing with that title.    
  
It didn’t matter because he was strong, and he was powerful, and he was just going to make her more so then she already was. So, since she still couldn’t speak, all Xena did was nod.  
  
"Good. We begin now."  
  
She almost screamed as the pain and pressure increased once again, as she fell to her knees before him, the sound of laughter around her as her friend (no, not her friend, her recruiter) watched on. Watched as he forced his way into her mind, forced her to relive every memory that had ever left her waking up in a cold sweat in bed, as without a single word he bared her entire self to him all while she struggled to get him _out_.  
  
Eventually, after how long she didn’t know because time meant nothing when it was the past and the present simultaneously, shaking, disobeying every command her body was giving her to submit, to give in, to lie down and let him win, Xena forced herself to stand.  
  
And Tom Riddle smiled, and she smiled back.

Shaking, pale faced, blood dripping from her palms as her nails gouged the skin, using every aching cell in her body to stand against the pounding in her mind, still, Xena smiled back.

And earned her place at his side.

It was his power that drew her: his casual use of painful reminders, necessary when it seems like one of their members (not friends, no, none of them were friends. Friendly, when the occasion called for it, yes, but never friends. Xena had no illusions about the group she was running with, knew any of them would slit her throat right there on Hogwarts grounds if they wanted to, if he commanded it, and she would do the same. So no, not friends) was getting out of line; his easy was with spells that she knew could be found only in the depths of the restricted section that he used with that graceful ease of his; the few little secrets he shared that never left their little group- if the teachers knew, if they ever found out, if Professor Dumbledore ever had another reason to doubt him, he'd be expelled, and they couldn't have that. It was all of that that had her sitting by his side day in and day out, taking in the tips and hints he gave about spells, wand work, potions, everything he knew and had learned.  
  
It was his strength that drew her, but it was his words that gained her loyalty.  
  
"Tell me, Xena," Riddle said, his hand playing with a lock of her hair, "why is it that we have to hide?"

Though he addressed her directly, his eyes weren’t on her. Instead, they were fixed on the group standing in a circle before them, each of the members practicing the spell he had taught them earlier in the night- the rat’s voice had long since been destroyed, though it had squealed for her a while before, and now all it could do was writhe as child after child took their turn. Even though he was touching her hair, it wasn’t from any kind of companionship- she had sat down on the step below his seat when, after her second try, she had cast the spell perfectly. She had maintained it for longer than any of the others, the rat had squealed even louder for her than it had for Tom, and feeling no need to practice any more than she had, she had sat. Making her head at arm’s level with him, and almost unknowingly he had reached out for the lock.

Even though he had spoken the question out loud, Xena wasn’t sure she was meant to reply- he often mused about the world around them, about the lives they lived and could be living, if things were different.

But she did anyway- she was determined to make him look at her, make him see who she was (perhaps, maybe one day, make him fear her; a nice circle, the teacher fearing the student who had surpassed them), and speaking up was just the start.

“Because of the muggles. Too many of them, too few of us- even with our magic, they can take us out easily. So we hide and hope they never find us.”

She knew her voice was bitter, her tone bordering on hateful, but she didn’t care. She didn’t try to hide it- Tom had forced his way into her mind, into all of their minds, enough times to know why she turned sour at the mention of muggles, why she had so much distain for the non-magical breed.

Even if she had wanted to try and hide it, after only three months she was still nowhere close to shielding her mind, not from him. From others, she had quickly learned how to turn them back, how to block off the passages that would lead too deeply into her mind, to only show them what she wanted them to see. But from _him_ she couldn’t- she tried, every time she felt his fingers dig into the cracks, but he always prevailed.

She was getting better, able to hold him off a little longer each time (something that angered and pleased him, for while he claimed he was proud of her for growing, he always smiled when she broke), but for now, to hide it would be impossible.

Not that he even needed to check, though. He knew, from the first search he had done, he knew. Knew about her brother, only five years old and branded a demon because he had made a bunch of flowers bloom in the middle of the street by accident. Knew about Lyceus’ death by the pact of cruel muggle children who had seen him as a threat and wanted him gone. Knew about the scars she had left branded onto every single one of them, her own magic running out of control when she had found them, had seen her baby brother broken and gone.

It had taken the Ministry days to clean up the mess, and part of Xena wished they hadn’t. While the children now smiled at her again whenever she was home for the breaks, the memories of what they had seen and done and experienced long and well forgotten, she wished it was fear she saw in their eyes instead. That fear would have kept them safe, allowed them to walk with their heads held high, proud of who they were instead of scuttling like rodents in the dark.

Xena hated having to hide. And she hated the muggles she had to hide from even more. 

“Yes, yes.” Tom waved off her answer with his free hand, the other continuing to twirl the lock of hair between his fingers- roughly, almost painfully, though she did nothing to stop him. “With the numbers of pure blood wizards falling, there are far too many muggles for a single one of us to take on alone. But, Xena, answer me this…” His hand paused as he glanced down at her- meeting and holding her gaze until she was forced to turn away. “If all of us, every witch and wizard in the world, joined together, if we all rose from the shadows of our lives and stood in the sun, who could stop us?”

He jerked on the lock when she didn’t answer right away, a small smile appearing on his face as she winced. Dropping the hair, he patted the spot, as if his touch could soothe away the moment’s pain. When she continued to remain silent, he tapped it again, harder, promising punishment if she didn’t respond.

“No one,” Xena finally said, looking up at him. “If we were to stand together, there’s nothing they could do.”

“Exactly. Wizards are the superior species, Xena,” Tom said, turning his gaze away from her, back to the game. The group had stepped back to see what the rat would do- it just laid there, shuddering, too pained to even run now that the chance was in sight. Pained and panicked and probably a little bit insane, after hours of hearing ‘crucio’ over and over again, after feeling the effects that little word had.

It had been weeks since Tom had shown her just how painful that curse was, and she still occasionally ached. And he had held his wand steady for only a moment, just long enough for her to get a taste.

She almost pitied the rat. Almost, if not for the lingering bite marks that covered her hand, the reward she had been given for trying to rescue it from the pot it had fallen in. The same marks Tom had seen when she had arrived, rat in her pocket, and the same marks that had him ordering her to hand the rat over to him. So she almost pitied it, but only almost.  

“Remember that, Xena,” Tom continued, his voice low. “We should be ruling the world, not cowering from it. And one day, we’ll never have to hide again. Now, go put that creature out of its misery. I’ve tired of watching those fools play at magic.”

His voice was an order, and while everything in her rebelled against the idea of following it, of being nothing more than a little toy for Tom to boss around, Xena still rose.

She wasn’t strong enough to defy him yet, wasn’t strong enough to tell him to kill his own damn rat, and so she obeyed. Without a single word, Xena stepped between the boys- all older than her, all better trained, and all looking drained from having spent just a couple of minutes keeping up the spell to torture the wretched thing, while she had walked away after much longer with barely a heavy breath to show her efforts- and raised her wand.

“Avada kedavra.”

Her voice calm, the words almost a whisper, Xena watched as the green light flowed from her wand and enveloped the rat, ceasing its movements. Finally giving it peace.

One day she wouldn’t have to hide, wouldn’t be forced to keep to the shadows, would be able to walk along the road with her wand out and see the muggles fear her. One day, she would be free from the invisible cage everyone else didn’t know was there, the cage only she and Tom and the couple of others who weren’t too blind to see the truth realized was there.

One day, if she followed Tom.

* * *

She carried on for him, after he left. Continued to search out and find the similar minds from the students around them, hand picking those who could join. Even though she was young, only in her fifth year, she was still the strongest of them all- stronger than the older students still at Hogwarts, stronger than most of the ones who had left; perhaps even stronger than Tom himself, though they had never tested it.

In part because she was scared- to lose a battle like that would mean to forfeit her life, and while she knew she could beat anyone else in the school, perhaps even most of the Professors themselves, him? She still couldn’t stand against him, still had trouble blocking him out (for a whole minute, she could stand her ground. But only a minute).

If she were to win it would be by luck, and there was no chance the odds were going to be in her favor. So they never found out, though Xena knew she was the second strongest in the group, if not the first.

So she took her duties as the strongest seriously. Finding students who might work for what they needed- loyal, strong but not overly so (she wouldn’t make the same mistake he did, wouldn’t prime her successor the way he had primed her), willing to delve into the depths of the dark waters she was leading them into.

And she did it without raising suspicion, too. Unlike Tom, who left the castle on a trail of raised eyebrows and watchful gazes, she avoided those. Oh, she gained a reputation- as an amazing beater and head of the Quidditich team, as the girl taking the most classes and getting the highest scores in them all, as someone people wanted to be near. That she was also training those who followed her, turning them into weapons like herself, into an army he (or she, if she ever stepped forward) could use, was just a hidden plus. There might have been one rumor or two, the occasional student who used to hang on her side suddenly only having the fuzziest of memories of her, but for the most part she kept them down. There was fear and love, respect and loyalty and wariness all mixed together because of who she was, not who she threatened to kill.    

Tom wanted his power then and there, was willing to do whatever he needed as soon as he could to get it, no matter the cost it would bring. She was much more careful: when things came tumbling down- as they always did, if History with Professor Binns had taught her anything- she wanted to ensure she came out standing, able to walk away from whatever ruins she was leaving behind, if it came to that.

So Xena trained, and she taught herself, her own form of charm getting her into the books she wanted, spells memorized and learned and kept to herself for later. All the while growing stronger, steadier, ready to face the world just waiting out there for her, to take her place by Riddle’s side, to gain the strength and support needed to make the muggles step down and accept them.

To make the world safe for people like her brother once again.

The best team captain Slytherin had seen in years; top of her class in every subject she had taken, which was almost all of them, the only set she hadn’t bothered with being the Muggle Studies; charming, beautiful, a woman of many skills, Xena could have had any life lined up for her. Pretending to hem and haw, making no commitments yet burning no bridges, she set out to find him- to see if he was as she remembered as a child, if he was as strong as she remembered or if he was nothing more than an older student she had looked up to.

If he was the first, she would join him, join him in making the world a better place for wizards, so they wouldn’t have to hide in fear of their powers. If he was the latter, well, she had many skills, and all of them would get her anywhere she wanted.

She was seventeen, freshly graduated from Hogwarts only two months prior, when she found him again.

She had heard about his attempt to become a teacher at Hogwarts, about how Professor Dumbledore had turned him away, told him to find a life outside of the school he had known as his only home for so long. It had almost hurt, to hear of him being cast out, though Xena was sure it was for the best- even she hadn’t tortured her followers the way he had, despite how much it had seemed that way with how hard she had pushed them. She had expected loyalty from her group, expected greatness, expected them to obey without a second thought- she hadn’t expected them to wait their turn as their companions were tortured at the end of her very wand, like she had, those few short years ago.

He had the right idea- get wizards and magic into the open, take over so the strong could rule, ensure a world of peace for them and their kind among the muggles, not beneath them. He had the right idea, but even Xena could tell there was something wrong with Tom- something twisted, perhaps a little too dark, though she could understand. He was preparing them for the war to come and the things they would have to do to win.

But she still balked at the idea of him near children. They would grow up and join them, one day, but for now, she was almost glad he had been turned away, though she hurt for him.

So she went out into the world to find him, following clues that would lead her into the rabbit hole she knew he had fallen into- even though his name never popped up, the random little murders she traced just spoke of him, of the magic he had looked too hard into, of the curses even she had turned away from when she had stumbled upon them in her studies. That spoke of that twisted little part of him that could smile while torturing a fourteen year old, and take even more pleasure from the fact that she smiled back. She followed this trail, away from everything she had ever known as home, into forests that had no name or at least none that she knew of, tracking him down, just so she could see.

It didn’t take her long, her magic and willpower strong, to find herself standing before him once again.

This time with a fear untempered by her excitement and awe, unswayed by the rumors and show of strength she knew could call her to his side. This time with just fear, pure, plain, and simple, as she saw what he had become.

He had never been warm, had never been known to do something kind just because he could- every smile, every gentle word, every bit of encouragement was for a purpose: to make someone loyal, to keep them occupied, to sway their minds the little bit he needed for them to agree. He seemed gentle, like he was someone people would want to build their lives around, but it had all been an act. An act she had known as a child, one she hadn’t care for, but one she had studied while he was there. It was an act he almost made seem real.

That act was gone, and all that was left was cold, darkness, this feeling in her stomach that told her to run, flee, to finally back down from a started fight for the first time in her life, because otherwise she was going to get herself killed.

But she didn’t. She stood before him, met and kept his gaze, and saw what he had become.

He was still just as handsome, though in a gaunt way now. As if he hadn’t eaten enough to fill his stomach in a very long time, or he had been sick.

Or as if part of him wasn’t all there.

She had heard rumors about what he was trying to do, whispers from the boys his year at Hogwarts, a slipped word from Professor Slughorn when she had pressed with just the right questions after he had had a couple of goblets of wine. Nothing clear, nothing completely true, no full source of information that could tell her what _exactly_ he was doing, but she had been able to guess, at least in part.

He was chasing immortality, life everlasting through the death of others and a loss of himself, and he had succeeded.

“Xena. You came. I always knew you would.”

His voice was much the same- no fake notes of excitement or welcome, just a general statement that sent the number of witches and wizards near him abuzz. They had all been nameless before him, before he had taken their names from their memories. For him to know hers- many shied away from her as she walked along the path they had made to him, even as just as many tried to get close, to examine who she was, how strong she was, just what made her special enough for the Dark Lord to know her.

She stopped before his chair- almost a throne, though not quite. Stopped and stared at him, trying to stop the quivering in her stomach and the ache in her heart. Not for him, no- there might have been pity, once, but no longer. For the people he had taken down with him in his descent, those were who she internally mourned.

But she said nothing, and instead nodded her head at him.

“I’ve been looking for you, To-“

“That name is no longer used,” Tom said casually as Xena’s tongue stopped short, her hands grasping for her throat. He couldn’t kill her- she had sensed the spell, had put up her own defenses, and by the small frown that momentarily crossed his lips before the smile had returned, he knew it. But he could make her suffer, his magic was that much stronger than her own, and they both knew it. “I go by a different name now. I am Lord Voldemort. Do you understand?”

He let go when she nodded, her ragged gasps for air barely fazing him as he watched her struggle to remember how to breathe. As her hand soothed away the burning pain in her neck, rubbing the skin raw as she tried to erase the feeling of his fingers on her throat, much like she had tried to erase the feeling of them in her mind those years before. As she slowly pulled herself back together and stood once more, watching him warily for any sign of magic.

He had taught her how to cast and throw off the Imperius curse, how to manage Crucio so she didn’t lose her mind to the pain, had taught her the exact mental state she had to slide into to cast the Killing Curse- those among so much more, in the few months he had been her teacher. But he hadn’t been able to teach her not to fear death itself, not when he himself feared it more than anything else in the world- something she could see, as he sat there, looking down at her, that he no longer did.

She didn’t fear death because she didn’t fear dying. He didn’t fear death because he couldn’t.

“You seem concerned, Xena,” Voldemort said, his voice low and soothing- a precursor to the brush against her mind, his fingers searching for the cracks that he knew would be there. She held him off for a while- nine minutes, her mental count told her, nine minutes before he found the warp in her mental wall that gave way before him, allowing him in. Allowing him to see her concern, the rumors she had heard, the doubts against him that had begun to spring up in the three years since he had been gone and she had been leading in his place- everything.

“You’ve killed people,” she said out loud, shaking her head as she spoke- both to show her disapproval and to clear the fog from her mind, to help remove the pain that had appeared in her temples, down her spine, behind her eyes; the pain was less intense than it once had been, but still it burned. “I’ve read the papers, seen the reports- witches and wizards, almost all of them. And you killed them. We’re supposed to be building a world for them, not tearing them down before us!”

She stood tall, her head raised in challenge, as the witches and wizards around them began to whisper. The news was not shocking to them, no- she hadn’t expected it to be. The fact that someone was standing up against their leader, though, that someone dare to take a stand before him- the whispers were almost a roar in their numbers as she stood there, waiting for him to respond.

He laughed.

“Are you saying we _shouldn’t_ dispose of those who stand against us, Xena?” His voice was calm as he spoke, just like it always was, as if they were discussing the weather instead of murder. “How many times did I say that death would line this path we’re walking? How many times did I tell you that you would kill, and kill, and kill again, if we wanted our world to become a reality. Have you forgotten?”

“Killing those who stood against us in battle is one thing,” Xena said, shaking her head. “I’m prepared to accept that. But how many did you kill in their homes, while they slept? Do you even remember the number?”

“Only the number of those who opposed me.” He shrugged as he answered, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. “Do you know how many of them pulled out their wands at my simple requests, how many turned me away when I am just trying to create a better world? You know me, Xena.” His words flowed from his tongue like gold, rich and warm and just asking her to believe him. Asking her to trust him. “I want all witches and wizards to live free from the shadows, to stand in the sun and bask in the rays of the glory we so rightfully deserve.” He raised his face upwards as he spoke, as if to catch some of the warmth he had mentioned, though there was nothing there for him to find- this deep in the forest, nothing but shadows, the same shadows he claimed to want to free them of, existed. “The only deaths I ever caused were against those who were against our cause. Who were against my rise to power, against what was good for all wizard kind. You know me, Xena, and you know this.”

And Xena found herself nodding, his words making sense- it had been years, but she did know him. Knew how cruel he was, how every word or motion of kindness was an act, had glimpsed the hidden depths and darkness within him that terrified her more than anything else in the world- even more than the thestrals she had seen her first day at Hogwarts, waiting by the carriages to take the older students up to the castle while the grounds keeper escorted her and the rest of her year to the castle across the lake. She knew how much he hated muggles, how much he wanted to be free.

She knew him, just as well as and because she knew herself, and she knew he had to be right.

He was dark, as dark as a wizard could go, but he was doing it for the right reasons. His methods were wrong, his actions were wrong, but when doing the right thing did nothing, _meant_ nothing, what else was there?

She couldn’t have another Lyceus on her hands, couldn’t stand the thought of another generation growing up feared because of their magic, powers they were born with long before they even knew what a wand was. Couldn’t stand the idea of two worlds divided when they could be one united under the rule of magic. And if their methods had to be harsh, had to be cruel, if they had to use and commit the unthinkable to make this a reality?

‘Reparo’ might not fix the world when they were done with it, not entirely, but even if it couldn’t, the world still needed to be broken for it to get better.

And she knew he knew she knew this by the way he stood, taking those few steps that would put him on her level- she was taller than him, she realized, a whole head taller, though she still felt so small. Like she was still a child as he held out his hand for her to take, that same small smile on his face he had worn during their training. During her torture.

“Xena, will you join me? Will you help me make a better world for our kind, where we don’t have to hide? Where we don’t have to fear that our children will end up just like your little brother?”

Xena took his hand and smiled.


End file.
